America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(95)

Why is he not calling YOU? an insidious little voice whispers in the back of my head, I glance down at Twitter again.

I dated @must_love_bees a year ago. Coldest fish EVER. Ryder can have her, the lying bitch. But I guess he figured her out, didn’t he?

My jaw drops.

Because that’s not some random internet troll making up a story about dating me.

That’s Trent.

And he added a picture of me from when we were dating. Out for seafood. I have butter smeared on my cheek, my hair’s falling in a gravity-defying flippy-do thing, one eye is half-closed, and my teeth are doing some weird thing that makes me look like a braying donkey as I open wide for a bite of crab.

“People are so shitty,” I mutter.

“Only the shitty ones, ma’am,” the bodyguard says. He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Sure you wanna go home?”

I nod.

My parents should be there. They’ve been here. They’ve done that. They’ll know all the right things to say.

And it doesn’t matter what an ex-boyfriend says, or even what ugly pictures he wants to post.

Especially since he’s not wrong.

I was cold.

I wouldn’t even tell him who my parents are.

I probably deserve that.

But I’m better now. I’m stronger. I’m owning it.

A dark whisper of because you had to flits through my mind.

Along with another whisper of and you’re still that dork that gets butter all over your face and can’t take a good picture to save your life.

If Beck hadn’t shown up to apologize for that tweet, I’d be the same old boring Sarah, hiding from the world, lying to my best friend, dating guys who snap ugly pictures of me, quietly working at making a small difference instead of contemplating how to make a big difference.

So does that really make me better?

Or just opportunistic?

Either way, I’m starting to wish I hadn’t eaten breakfast.





Thirty-Nine





Beck

I’m gaping at the video screen and wishing Charlie hadn’t taken away my coffee before we started this video conference. Bruce stares back, belligerent. The rest of the team looks just as shocked as I am.

Except Charlie.

She looks like she’s been taking notes on some of those things Judson threatened me with, and she’s fixing to fly out to California and practice them on Bruce as soon as this call is over.

“Start over, and use small words,” I tell Bruce, “because it sounds like you just said you canceled the contract with Sarah early.”

“It was time.” Bruce nods, his bald spot shimmering in the light off his desk lamp. “Public opinion of you has never been higher, and we get to paint her as the one taking advantage of you. We bumped up announcing the foundation to Wednesday. Full buy-in from Crawford, especially when I told him you really liked her and were disappointed she called it off, though I don’t know why he believed that.”

“Who the fuck gave you the authority to do that?”

“Ryder. My email’s exploding with notes from buyers at all the major retail chains and online outlets. Everyone wants to feature not just RYDE, but your other lines too. We can’t take the chance of the girl fucking this up.”

“Her name is Sarah.”

“Her name is trouble. You’re in too deep and you need to get your head back on straight and quit thinking with your dick, though I’m a little worried about it if that’s what you honestly go for in a woman.”

My head’s spinning, because what the ever-loving fuck? “Take. It. Back.”

“Too late, Buttercup. And you’re welcome.”

I thought being pissed was bad enough. But now legit fear is gripping my chest, because that sounds very ominous. “What. Did. You. Do?” I growl.

Vicki’s eyes go wide. Hestia chokes on the green juice she’s drinking.

And Charlie smiles.

It’s one of those ugly smiles.

“What do you mean, what did I do? I’m sitting here running your fucking empire for you while you piddle around with the horse girl.”

“Horse girl,” I repeat, and I see red.

I don’t like seeing red.

It makes the world an ugly fucking cesspool of rotten olives, and olives are one food I actually can’t stand.

I push my chair back from the desk and gesture Charlie to step up front and center. “Hestia, Vicki, I’ll call you later. Hang up now. Charlie, have the honors.”

I’m dialing the head of my legal team before Charlie’s done telling Bruce he’s fired. Actually, before she’s even gotten started.

She’s getting a promotion.

And I—

Fuck.

I need to find out what Bruce did, and stop it before whatever he did gets to Sarah, because I have zero doubt that whatever he did, it involves her.

I give my legal team a run-down on Bruce’s firing and ask them to prepare for a fight, and also to investigate if I can threaten to sue him for breaching a contract on my behalf, if that’s actually what he did, which I need to figure out pronto.

Maybe firing him was too hasty.

Then again, maybe not. I’m hanging up with my legal team when Hank turns the corner, laptop in one hand, the largest vat of coffee I’ve ever seen in the other.